


Promissory

by the_last_dillards



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: M/M, Mile High Club, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Season/Series 01, Pre-Series, Semi-Public Sex, like literally just before the first episode, or lightyear high club?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:47:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24378226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_last_dillards/pseuds/the_last_dillards
Summary: On a shuttle to the newly-free Bajor, Garak meets a couple of Starfleet officers and passes some time with the hot-blooded and fresh-faced Doctor Bashir.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 38
Kudos: 121





	Promissory

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Многообещающее знакомство](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26307967) by [fandom Star Trek Prime Universe 2020 (StarTrek_Universe)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarTrek_Universe/pseuds/fandom%20Star%20Trek%20Prime%20Universe%202020), [Natalia1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natalia1/pseuds/Natalia1)



> Not beta’d. Cardassian anatomy is based on Tinsnip’s Speculative Cardassian Reproductive Xenobiology
> 
> This was written over a year ago and was my first pwp. It was originally intended as a prequel to a longer story so you might notice the beginning is a little bit long and explain-y. Since then the other story has had so many of its concepts and ideas snatched up by my other fics that it’ll probably never be written. But I’ll share the basic outline in the end notes.

“Do excuse me, but I am seated in F6. Might that be the seat just on the other side of you there?”

Garak stood in the aisle, already feeling the first hints of claustrophobia as he eyed the two Starfleet officers. They were a human and a Trill, seated in the outer spaces of the row. Just his luck that he’d be randomly assigned to a chair farthest from the aisle and with enemy soldiers in the way.

The human leaned over to check the chair number.

“Um...yeah. This is F6.”

“Thank you. If you don’t mind.”

At this point, a Cardassian would’ve stood politely and moved into the aisle to allow Garak to sit. Clearly, these Federationers had been raised with fewer manners. They tucked their feet in and shifted their legs to the side, apparently expecting Garak to shuffle his way past them. He did and hoped both got a good look at his posterior in the meantime. 

Garak situated himself for the long trip to Bajor and listened in as his neighbors picked up their conversation. It was impossible not to with the volume of it. Not that he wouldn’t have perked an ear regardless. 

Conversation was perhaps too generous a word. It was a very one sided affair, the human jabbering on and on while the Trill politely listened with an air of resigned amusement. She nodded along and gave input here and there until her eyes glazed over, and she began to give increasingly blatant hints that she would like to read her padd.

Garak bored of it quickly. He decided to occupy himself with making a mental tally of all the things he’d need to do once he got back to Terok Nor. That was assuming, of course, he would be allowed to return. 

After the Cardassian withdraw, Garak had been forced to make a hasty leave for the Federation. He needed to make an asylum request and to do that, his case needed to be brought before a court on Earth. 

Admittedly, this wasn’t his only reason. Tensions rode high in those final days, and Bajorans and Cardassians alike were a threat to him. Nothing but yet another faceless Cardie to the Bajorans and a degenerate exile to the Cardassians. Neither side would’ve put much hesitance into killing him. And so Garak had enlisted Quark’s help to smuggle him out as soon as word of Central Command’s decision came.

The trip had been a long one. Ships and layovers and then more ships over the course of a week and a half to reach the Federation’s heart.

There was a certain feeling of vulnerability that came with being on an alien ship. Cardassian vessels all had the same basic designs and architecture. They felt like home, even if he had never seen that particular ship before. 

These were full of strangers, bright lights, and the glaciating cold of space. A clinging claustrophobia followed him into the ships’ bowels and hard hulls as he imagined a rocking motion like the sailing boats of old. It didn’t help that with his unstable financials, Garak was forced into the smallest quarters available, if given quarters at all. 

The wire, that sweet bit of technology, was his sole relief. It had turned itself on and off several times over the last few weeks in response to his ever rising stress levels. He only wished it could be more constant. Whoever had the bright idea to put a safety on the damned thing ought to receive a disciplinary.

Barring extreme physical pain or discomfort, it was set to provide relief for no more than a few hours at a time. Garak had found his own ways to meet the threshold when he needed it, but they were rather inconvenient.

It had taken several miserable days for Garak’s case to be heard. After agreements were made and finalized, Garak was sent right back to Bajor where he would be forced to undergo yet another hearing for asylum. This time from the Bajoran Provisional Government. 

If all went well, he’d be back on Terok Nor within the week. If not, well, Garak was nothing if not resourceful. Maybe he could hide away on some minor planet on the opposite border of the Federation from Cardassia. Not that such a thing would grant him much protection.

But it wouldn’t do to think of such things right now. There was very little Garak could do to change the outcome at this very moment and it only exacerbated his claustrophobia. Even now he could feel a press on his skin, a threatening pressure and a need to fight it, to swim up, to find air. 

No! Find something else.

When Garak made it back, and he would. _He would._ Well, there was so much to do! Reinventory the shop, document stolen goods, replace equipment, find new fabric suppliers, clean and repair whatever damage was undoubtedly done during the riots in his absence, re-upgrading his security, try to guess what Bajoran fashions might be popular now...Would there even be any customers? 

Garak had mostly repaired and tailored Cardassian military uniforms before. There was the occasional civilian outfit, but he had only ever had one Bajoran customer. One who had owned a shop down the Promenade and was a well known collaborator of Gul Dukat. There was a good chance they had been strung from the railings by now. 

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. He should take the first shuttle back to the Federation and find somewhere else. The Bajoran people were rather primitive, somewhat uncivilized. It was why the Cardassians first came after all. Perhaps they would string him up when he arrived, make an example of him no matter his crimes or his status. This was a foolish endeavor. 

If Garak tried to re-open shop, there’d be no customers anyways! He’d be destitute, unable to leave the station and at the mercy of mongrels. He could almost feel it now. Trapped. Trapped with people who hated him. Trapped in a metal box in space. Trapped like he was now. Why were the ceilings so low on these shuttles? They were crushing him, he was at the bottom of an ocean and the pressure was going to cave in on him and he was trapped and—

Garak was jostled out of his thoughts by a sharp elbow. It was that human, making some exaggerated gesture with his hands. There was a brusk _Sorry_ and then he was back into whatever he had been talking about. Some test that he had missed a question on. Why someone would ever want to volunteer that sort of information was beyond Garak but the logic of the Federaji was typically confounding.

Garak had been so shamefully caught up in his own thoughts that he had forgotten to observe those next to him. The human had scooted much closer to the Trill in the meantime and now had an arm draped over the back of her chair. 

_Oh._ That’s what this was. Some poor and misguided attempt at flirtation. Highly inappropriate as well. Not only were both were in public and in uniform but Garak was familiar enough with Starfleet rank insignia that he could tell that the Trill had higher command. Perhaps it was an attempt by the human to sleep his way up the ranks. It happened more frequently within the Cardassian military than anyone would ever admit to and by reputation alone, these Federaji were an extremely over sexual people.

Still, one would think the human would notice her disinterest and stop, instead of continuing to pester. Listening to it was enough to make Garak long for his wire, but it had already turned itself off several hours ago. He couldn’t very well cause himself enough pain to turn it back on right now either. Unless…

Garak had seen this sort of dogged overconfidence in many men before. They were an annoying sort but predictable, and if there was one thing Garak knew, they _hated_ having their own tactics used on them. Especially by other men. If all went well, Garak could get him to punch him by flirting just as outrageously.

“If you’ll excuse me again,” Garak interrupted, “as we are headed towards Bajor, I wasn’t aware that Starfleet had any military interest in the area. Is there a post being established? I’m surprised the Bajorans would allow it so soon after ridding themselves of Cardassian influence.”

The human paused mid sentence and turned partway to look at Garak, brow furrowed.

“Starfleet isn’t a military organization. They’re just sending some officers over to help provide stability after the mess the Cardassians left behind. Why are you so interested?”

He looked at Garak suspiciously.

Garak went all in, leaning close on an armrest and allowing a hand to settle on the human’s knee. 

“I was simply curious where I might find such a handsome young officer such as yourself during my visit.” 

The human’s eyes went comically wide. Oh, Garak had him.

But then it all went wrong. Instead of scowling or trying to let Garak down gently or giving a brisk _Not Interested_ , a delighted grin spread across his face.

Garak was now the sole center of attention. The human pulled away from Trill and seemed to puff up in some sort of peacocking display, morphing his smile into what Garak supposed was meant to be charming. _By the State_ , what had he brought upon himself?

“Well, I’m to be the _chief_ medical officer on the space station Deep Space Nine. Doctor Julian Bashir, pleased to make your acquaintance.” 

He held out a hand and Garak took it hesitantly. His knowledge of human customs was rusty but he was fairly certain grabbing hands was their proper form of greeting. A rather overly personal gesture, in his opinion. Bashir responded by shaking it forcefully and Garak nearly yanked it back in surprise.

Then Bashir let go and leaned in, propping his elbow on the armrest and resting his chin on a hand.

“You know it’s amazing I made it here. On my medical school finals...” 

Garak died inside. He had wanted pain of some sort to trigger the wire but this wasn’t what he had in mind. He nodded along, doing his best to listen. Anything, even this, to ignore that looming panic. 

Focus on the body next to him. That body, it positively radiated heat. _Warmth_. So much of these last few weeks were spent in the cold. He can’t imagine why his people ever decided to embark into the stars when they were so frigid and distant from their sweet mother world. An ever sapping void that required thick metal hulls to keep little slips of warmth in.

What if something went wrong with the environmental controls? 

Logic told Garak that freezing to death would be the last of his troubles. Between the heat generated by the engines and many bodies onboard, and the chemical exchanges involved in cell function, asphyxiation and heatstroke were much sooner to happen. Garak knew this.

But some part of his brain was caught up with the void just on the other side of the window. Garak couldn’t withstand freezing temperatures the way many other species could. He had no internal reserve or ability to generate heat to fall back upon. 

Limbs would become heavy and sluggish. His mind would slow and cloud. There would be no fighting back. Instead, he would feel the pain of his muscles and blood slowly turned to ice. Even the wire couldn’t save him. What good were endorphins if they were trapped at the source? No, there would be no escape, was no escape, and he was trapped and—

“Are you alright?” 

Bashir looked concerned.

“I’m sorry. I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

“You seem distracted and your breathing rate has increased. You know space sickness is really much more common than—”

Garak slid his hand up Bashir’s thigh and squeezed. 

“ _Oh._ ”

“I assure you, my dear, I am quite alright now that you’re here.” 

Well, maybe he was laying it on somewhat thick. But better to be seen as some overly forward Cardassian that might proposition a stranger in public than allow a hint of what was really going on in his mind be known.

He let the hand wander up the inside of Bashir’s leg. Even through his trousers—poorly fitted, Garak couldn’t help but notice—his flesh really was very warm. What Garak wouldn’t give to curl against this human and suck out all that heat from him. Steal it away until Bashir became the cold husk and Garak’s body was satiated in its desire.

Garak added, “Perhaps, I’m merely travel weary. It has been a very long and stressful trip. And it’s not often I come across such a doting, diligent man as yourself.”

Bashir’s face went through several unidentifiable phases before he stumbled out with, “Um, ah, you know, I could give you a, uh, quick exam if you’d like? Make sure you’re okay, just in case. We’d need somewhere private, of course, so I could say, meet you in the fresher?”

And why not? Everything else was falling to pieces. If Garak was lucky, he’d be stuck on a Bajoran space station for who knows how long. No sex there. 

Garak was tired. Tired of the travelling and the hard metal hulls and the constant anxiety. The likelihood that he’d be seeing anyone on this flight again out of all the trillions of beings in the galaxy was close to none. 

So he said, “That would be agreeable.”

“I’m going to get up. Wait a couple minutes and then come follow.” 

As if Garak needed directions on how to be discreet. But he obeyed and watched as Bashir stood and scooted past the Trill, who was by now fully immersed in her padd. She only paid him enough attention to shuffle her legs to the side.

Garak waited out a full five minutes before he stood and made his way towards the back. There were two restrooms, only one closed. Garak knocked softly before going inside. Bashir leaned against the sink, waiting. 

“I almost thought you had changed your mind.”

Garak hushed him before he could say more.

“Please refrain from talking and keep all noises to a minimum. These cubicles aren’t sound proofed.” 

And Garak would know. During a quick hop between systems on his way to Earth, Garak had been seated immediately in front of the restrooms when a space-sick Lurian had made their way towards the back. It had only been a six hour trip, but it was not one he would soon forget.

Bashir nodded, eyes shining with excitement. Garak hoped this was worth it. The room was rather small.

Suddenly Bashir closed the gap between them, taking Garak’s face in between both hands and kissing him squarely on the mouth. Garak settled his hands on Bashir’s hips and kissed back. He would allow the human this for now but they couldn’t afford much time for foreplay. 

And besides, they were strangers. They owed each other nothing. Oh, he could understand the allure of a lazy day in bed exploring some strange new species, but that wasn’t what this was. This was a transitory bout of sex and nothing more. 

Garak allowed his hands to wander. They seemed to drift of their own accord to Bashir’s backside and kneaded at the firm muscle there. In response, Bashir shifted forward to let their hips brush and _ah yes_ , there was that notorious prUt.

Garak couldn’t fathom having his genitalia out constantly. Surely it would be a mess of over sensitivity and abrasion. But even through the rough material of his Starfleet trousers, Bashir certainly seemed to be enjoying it, rubbing against Garak and making small noises in his throat.

Bashir moved to deepen the kiss, licking inside Garak’s mouth. A strange smooth, wet feeling that—

That tasted very strongly of _gagh_. Not caring for a secondhand taste of Bashir’s most recent meal, Garak pulled away, hands slipping from his face, and disguised his disgust by mouthing down Bashir’s neck instead. Nothing more than the lightest of kisses and nips. It wouldn’t do to leave marks on a stranger. 

Bashir let his head fall to the side under Garak’s ministrations. His hands found new purchase, one on Garak’s shoulder squeezing ever so wonderfully at the ridge there and the other sliding down to feel between his legs.

But there was very little for him to find. After some inquisitive rubbing, Garak felt a hand snake up under his tunic to run along his waistband, looking for the clasp. Bashir was apparently an impatient sort of individual. He gave a cursory search and then, rather than politely asking or letting Garak do it himself, he simply shoved a hand into Garak’s trousers. 

Garak gritted his teeth. He’d only just widened the waist on these.

But then Bashir found his seam, running firm fingers along it, and Garak forgot all about any damage to his trousers. He gasped as the slit relaxed at the attention and gave way to let a finger dip inside.

Garak gripped tight at Bashir’s shoulders. The pleasure was more intense than he’d expected. Surely, it hadn’t been _that_ long since the last time he’d taken anything inside of him. 

Soon Bashir began trying to push more inside, only to be thwarted by Garak’s waistband. He attempted to push his forearm further down before Garak stopped him, made him remove his arm, and finally undid the fastener to save them from any more damage. Artificial gravity pulled them to his knees. 

Bashir hummed happily and took the opportunity to slide another couple fingers into him, one after the other.

“What’s your name?”

“I’m sorry?” Garak whispered back, caught off guard.

“Your name? What is it?”

_Really?_ Bashir had to ask this now? If that was something the doctor had cared to know, he should’ve asked back at their seats.

But now that he had been asked, something between shame and embarrassment crawled up inside him. Here he was in a shuttle restroom with an alien he knew nothing about, had only just met, barely even talked to, and was an officer of an enemy military to boot, and now Garak was giving him free reign to do with his body as he pleased. 

And what pleased Bashir apparently was shoving three fingers deep inside his ajan and using them to give Garak unimaginable pleasure. _Quite_ unseemly.

“Garak,” he answered finally.

“Well, Mr Garak, I’m very glad we’ve met.”

“Likewise.”

And with that, Bashir slid out of reach onto his knees.

Garak wasn’t expecting it. It wouldn’t be an unprecedented move if he had already everted and Bashir was making a statement of dominance by pleasuring him with the threat of teeth so close but this was something else. Something no Cardassian would ever dare attempt.

He held his breath in anticipation as Bashir leaned in close, breath heavy and damp and _hot_ over his vent. There wasn’t even a second of hesitation—and what did that say about where that mouth had been before?—before he gave a bold lick, right over the seam. 

Garak whimpered. Of all the shameful things.

That was apparently an invitation to the human. He went all in, lapping enthusiastically and using his fingers to scissor and thrust and spread him open wide for Bashir’s hungry tongue. It was _obscene_. Garak loved it all. 

And Bashir seemed to be enjoying himself too, shuffling closer to press his erection to Garak’s leg. Warm thighs braced on either side, lithe muscles constricting to give Bashir more balance and coordination as he began grinding hard against it. 

Garak tentatively set a hand on the back of Bashir’s head to help hold him close. Such strange fur these creatures have, so many variations. He let the hand run along Bashir’s scalp, feeling the curls tangle and catch until he reached the nape of his neck. The implicit trust Bashir gave him, allowing a complete stranger to touch such a vulnerable place, was thrilling. 

Soon, Garak could feel the muscles around his ajan relaxing under the attention, giving it a natural gape that allowed Bashir to press his face even closer. The urge to evert was intense. How easy it would be to just allow his prUt to slide forward, to push out and into Bashir’s warm, waiting, and oh so _willing_ mouth. But Garak could not, would not give into that temptation.

Too soon however, eversion became inevitable. Bashir found the head of his prUt with the tip of that clever probing tongue and moaned, wantonly and much too loudly, into his ajan. Garak could feel as it began evert against his will. 

He resigned himself to the cold air and forced himself to pull Bashir’s head back. He hadn’t lost his wits enough today to put himself at the mercy of a stranger.

Bashir’s face was one of pure debauchery. His eyes were hooded and dark, looking almost drugged, and his chin shined with spittle and other fluids.

He gave a breathless, “Wha-?”

“My dear, I do appreciate the sentiment and I’m not sure how your people go about such things, but we’ve only just met.” 

“Oh,” Bashir breathed, disappointed. 

Garak settled Bashir’s hair back down while he patiently waited for the human to come back to himself.

Finally, seeming to wake from whatever euphoric trance he had been in, Bashir said, “Well, there’s other things we can do I’m sure. Not a lot of time or room for anything fancy but...Oh!” He clapped a hand to his forehead, making a sharp slap. “Of course! Should’ve been obvious.”

He gave Garak’s leg a parting grind before levering himself back up. There was a moment of lost warmth as the human took a step back to give himself room to undo his trousers. But Garak’s disappointment was short-lived. Bashir gave an impish grin before there was a loud _ZIP!_ and his trousers dropped to the floor. 

Before him was a very unfamiliar set of genitals. It was one thing to know in theory that human prUts were exposed, another to feel evidence of it behind cloth, but to see it in the _flesh._

Bashir kicked his pants away to the side and stood proudly, hands on his hips and a smug smile on his face, as he gave Garak time to take it all in.

The sight was almost shocking. There was no slit from which the prUt extended. Instead, in the middle of a tuft of fur, it was just there. It was odd shaped and odd colored and dry to the point that he had to wonder whether this human might have some sort of sexual dysfunction. Hanging loosely behind it were two sparsely furred sacs which Garak could only guess at the purpose of. 

It was one of the oddest things he had seen in his life.

Bashir, however, seemed completely unfazed by Garak’s own prUt. Nor should he be at seeing a _normal_ phallus.

After allowing Garak a few moments to get his fill, Bashir dropped his hands from his hips and moved in close. He settled one on Garak’s hip, testing the depth of Garak’s stationary lifestyle with a squeeze, and took both their prUts in the other, lining them up with a firm grip. It felt strange and foreign being pressed so intimately to such an alien organ. 

The situation well in Bashir’s capable hands, Garak was left with the conundrum of what to do with his own. He settled for resting them on Bashir’s shoulders, kneading the muscles there and hoping that even if it wasn’t an especially sensual act for humans, that he would still appreciate the sentiment.

Bashir gave a few exploratory strokes, spreading Garak’s slick over them both, before beginning to pump in earnest. He made strange little noises with each movement that Garak found utterly endearing. Unfortunately, they couldn’t be allowed to persist lest the pair be discovered.

He pulled Bashir back into a kiss. It quickly deepened and soon there was a tongue trying to push its way into Garak’s mouth again. This time he acquiesced, suffering through the combined taste of gagh and his own fluids. But if it kept the human quiet and helped him get off sooner, then so be it. And having the ability to bite Bashir’s tongue off if he tried anything perfidious couldn’t hurt either.

Excitement flared in his gut as Bashir worked them. It was a bit embarrassing actually just how close Garak was already to finishing. It was far too early in the proceedings for him to feel this way, even if he could pass it off as needing to move this encounter along. 

To add to his shame, Bashir wasn’t even very good at this. It wasn’t horrible per say, but when he came to one end or another, he only ever seemed to pay attention to the prUt tip instead of the base. They didn’t have time for teasing. 

Thankfully, Bashir’s hand soon tired. His fingers became sloppier, sliding over them both loosely and catching at Garak’s irllun. At the first accidental touch, Garak let out a surprised grunt which seemed to spur Bashir on to touch him there more, focusing where Garak began and Bashir ended with tighter, twisting jerks.

Garak yanked his mouth away as he felt himself nearing the edge. He lent in close to Bashir and breathed into his ear, “Doctor, I’m afraid I may be close to finishing soon.”

Bashir pulled back his head and made eye contact, opening his mouth to say—

But the words never got a chance as a large glob of semen suddenly oozed its way onto Bashir’s hand. He looked down in surprise just as the extra slickness caused the hand to lose its grip and slip off.

Garak grabbed a disposable towel and wiped off his phallus, letting it make its ascent back into safety, before shuffling his trousers back up. When he looked up again to toss it in the reclamator, he saw Bashir watching him through hooded eyes. He was leaning back against the sink, using his thoroughly soiled hand to stroke himself. 

It was both an intriguing and horrifically awkward sight. 

Perhaps if he hadn’t already finished, Garak might find it arousing. The act of masturbation in front of a partner was considered a taboo act on Cardassia, and like all taboos, they had a way of titillating. 

But for now, Garak was at a loss for what to do. He couldn’t very well leave the fresher when Bashir was still exposed and unkempt, but he also didn’t relish the idea of standing and waiting for him to finish. And besides, it would be rude to leave his partner to tend to himself. 

He could always give him a hand, so to speak, but standing in front of Bashir seemed like a dangerous endeavor for his clothes. He could maneuver behind him. It would make the small space feel even smaller trapped between him and the sink but he might be able to manage it if Bashir finished soon enough. Or...

An idea came to mind.

If there was no taboo in human culture over receiving oral sex and there certainly wasn’t one in Cardassian culture over giving it, then there was no reason they couldn’t finish this encounter out in a mutually enjoyable way.

Garak stopped Bashir and lifted his filthy hand by the wrist, bringing it to his mouth. It wasn’t that he particularly cared for the taste of himself but the chance that Bashir might grab at his hair in a fit of passion and get spunk in it was too great to risk. He plopped each finger into his mouth, letting his tongue swirl around each in a mimicry of what was to come. He finished each off with little pop as they slid out of his mouth.

Then Garak lowered himself to his knees, eyes searching Bashir’s face for any sign that he should stop.

There was a challenge in the movement. Or at least, any Cardassian would recognize it as such. He knew it probably registered as mere lust in a human’s cultural frame. But even if Bashir would be unaware of his submission, Garak felt a certain thrill at exerting his own dominance over the situation, enclosing another’s delicate member in his jaws. 

He leaned in and licked at the tip, just to get a taste of what was to come. The prUt jumped unexpectedly at the contact. Bashir’s breathing hitched. Garak grabbed hold of it at the base, unsure if humans had any conscious control of these movements and unwilling to take any chances.

Once he felt confident that he had control over the strange phallus, he took the head into his mouth, working in bobbing motions towards the base. The way was slicked with his own semen. 

It was a stretch, trying to take it all in order to properly pleasure Bashir. His penis was so abnormally long, at least by Cardassian standards. Garak wasn’t sure he’d be able to make it. It sat hot and heavy on his tongue, sliding along the groove ever deeper as he worked his way down. Bashir rested a gentle hand on top his head to guide him. 

“Fuck,” Bashir breathed.

Then came the point where Garak simply couldn’t manage to take any more without choking. He settled for rubbing along the base and hoped that was enough to get Bashir off quickly.

Garak suckled and laved over the length with his tongue before an insistent finger started poking at his cheek. He pulled back to the tip, sucking hard. The fingers in his hair curled, and Bashir’s prUt twitched in his grasp.

At first, it seemed almost as if nothing had happened. But then a bitter taste overcame all others and Garak realized that instead of coming all at once as a Cardassian would do, waves of seed were coming in spurts.

Once it seemed that Bashir was done and the hand in his hair was grabbing at him rather painfully, trying to pull him back, Garak let him drop from his mouth, penis somehow seeming smaller and more shriveled than it did before.

He swallowed, not sure what else to do when the sink was behind his partner.

Then Garak was being pulled up rather unexpectedly and given a sloppy kiss. Bashir pulled back, a crooked grin set on his face. He grabbed a handful of towels and gave a few to Garak as they both made themselves presentable.

There was a second then where they both stood quietly, having shared this moment and ready, physically at least, to go back into the world and scatter amongst the stars.

Then Bashir broke it. “Same as before, I’ll go first?”

Not with that grin still plastered on his face he wasn’t. 

“Why don’t I go ahead, and then you can follow after several minutes. You have been gone a while. Pretend your gagh didn’t sit well with you perhaps.”

Bashir nodded.

“Alright.”

Garak slid the door open just barely enough to escape through it and closed it gently behind him before making his way back to his seat. The Trill didn’t spare a glance from her padd as she shuffled her legs to the side for him.

Not thirty seconds later the fool came along, looking much too pleased with himself to ever pull off a story about bad gagh. 

This time the Trill did look up and it was enough for her to give a second glance, before standing from her seat and moving into the aisle to allow the idiot doctor to pass. She was clearing making some assumptions about the past fifteen minutes and looked thoroughly amused about it. Garak could only hope everyone else on the shuttle was too absorbed with their padds or sleeping to have noticed.

Bashir resettled himself into his chair, giving Garak a few of what he must’ve thought to be sly looks before leaning back and closing his eyes. He let a hand drift down to rest on Garak’s knee. It was a presumptuous move but he let it be for now. 

There was a certain grounding quality to it. A comforting warmth that soaked into his flesh. It wasn’t as if he would be finding any sort of comfort again for a long, long time. He ought to savor what he could get.

Garak focused on it as he let his breath slow in time with the soft, steady breathing beside him, lulling himself into a peaceful trance as they passed the stars by.

**Author's Note:**

> Plot of the sequel that would’ve been written:  
> Julian spots the newly arrived Garak in the replimat and bounds up like an excited puppy (a kind of reverse to their canon intro) and they hit it off. Garak doesn’t mind casual sex but with his shaky status on station, need to stay on the Federation’s good side, and financial situation, he isn’t in a good place for a relationship. Julian however very much wants a relationship, and it becomes somewhat like Julian’s early series pursuit of Jadzia. He keeps pushing. Garak ordinarily wouldn’t have any trouble scaring someone like Julian away but needs to stay on his good side and worries he’ll lose him if he gives too firm a ‘no’ so they drift into a sort of game of tug-o-war. 
> 
> That was my broad outline at least. There’s two stories in particular that really took their ideas from that one and frankly, I think they’re better off as two different stories. They’re not done yet but I’ll add their names here once they’re out.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Comments, kudos, and conversation are always loved!


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